There we were,
two messed up heads
and two intertwined hearts.
Sitting down hand-in-hand, his arm occasionally supporting my back, my head resting on his shoulder — letting the blast of music and the stunning view of the midnight city take over our eyes.
He knew how much I marvel at city lights. He knew how much I have been waiting for this moment to surface. He knew how passionate I am for these tiny, infinite moments.
He stared at me. I sneaked a glance back. He grinned. He looked away.
I swore to myself I would never forget how I felt that night.
Cup in hand, I struggled to stand up with bare feet — a failed attempt to keep myself balanced on the cool green grass.
I fell back in his arms in a jumbled heap of arms and legs. He laughed.
Oh, how he laughed.
"I love you," he breathed.
"Huh?" I said, feeling as light as a feather.
"I love you."
I his right cheek with weak fingers before surrendering, lulling my head back in his embrace, not saying a word.
The last of what I saw was him — only him — staring at the stage with eyes glowing contentedly and arms embracing my then frail being.
For I smiled,
with eyelids closed,
unsure of his notice.
For I wondered,
whether he knew
that I actually heard what he said.
For I knew,
when he said those three words,
it somehow felt different.
For I knew,
when he said those three words,
it calmed the storm inside me.
For I knew,
in that exact moment,
when he said those three words,
he meant it.
.i.t
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